


Velleity

by altihex



Series: Harold, They're Lesbians / Ladyformers AU [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, One-sided hate sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altihex/pseuds/altihex
Summary: Overlord cashes in a favor with Tarn. To nobody's surprise, it's sexual in nature.
Relationships: Overlord/Tarn (Transformers)
Series: Harold, They're Lesbians / Ladyformers AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189622
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Velleity

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this I intended entirely for it to be just a one-off thing, but I have conjured up an AU in which this takes place. I may write about it someday that isn't just shameless PWP, lol.

“And?”

“It was a _resounding_ success, no thanks to you.”

“So?”

“Are you deaf–”

Overlord shushes Tarn with a finger to her lips. “You owe me,” Overlord insists. 

Tarn counts herself among the tallest within their group and yet Overlord still has the _audacity_ to tower over her to the point where Tarn has to angle her head up to look Overlord in the eye. She hopes the look in her eyes conveys that, despite Overlord’s _advantage,_ Tarn looks down on her regardless.

Overlord’s lips curl into a familiar smirk. Her finger trails up, touching to the edges of the mask that partially covers Tarn’s eyes, lifting it up. “Don't you?”

This is a terrible idea. Beyond that. Out of every impulse Tarn has chosen to act on in the past _this_ is the one that will forever haunt her. Forget Megatron, _Overlord_ would be the death of her.

Tarn purses her lips. The movement tugs at the scarring on her cheek. She has to consider her words very carefully, lest she wants to give Overlord another slip-up to weaponize against her. “You can count yourself lucky that I do repay my favors.”

“Sure thing,” Overlord grins. Her eyes drift lower than Tarn’s face and when she realizes the other woman is about to grope her in _public_ , she takes a step back and swats at Overlord’s hand. 

“Not _here_ ,” Tarn grumbles at Overlord’s inquisitive frown. She gestures for the other to follow her and spins on her heel, setting off into the halls. Tarn maintains a quick pace while consciously keeping her posture in check, her steps even and her hands clasped behind her back. The act of doing so, as well as the sound of Overlord _running_ to keep up with her calms her nerves a little.

When Tarn stops it takes Overlord all but two seconds to figure out where they are. “Your place?” 

Tarn unlocks the door and pays no mind to the face-splitting grin Overlord wears. “How keen of you,” she remarks dryly, quickly ushering the taller woman inside. Though the building seemed virtually empty from what she could tell, Tarn wasn't going to risk being spotted with Overlord at her own door. 

“I’d say m–?!?” Tarn intends to take another verbal swipe at Overlord but the maniac pushes her up against her door the second they both make it inside, tearing off her mask and bending down to kiss her fiercely.

Aghast at her “guest’s” forwardness, Tarn bites Overlord. Hard. Their kissing gains a metallic taste, multiplied when teeth meet tongues and tear at lips and– oh. Overlord wasn't phased. 

Tarn bristles and braces two hands on the other’s chest, shoving her off. “What are you _doing_?!”

Overlord laughs. The shove only sent her staggering back a few feet. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “ _Such_ a fierce little thing~” Overlord coos. Tarn grinds her teeth, hands balling into fists.

“Overlord,” she begins, all low and dangerous, even when the woman returns to her previous position and entertains herself by _groping_ Tarn through her top. “If your intent is to taunt me, I would _strictly_ advise you to–”

“No bra,” Overlord comments with a pleased hum. 

“ _What_ ?” Tarn sputters. Her taunt was not only interrupted but clearly fell on deaf ears as well, evident when Overlord uses both hands to– to _fondle_ her, wearing a smirk so smug Tarn had half a mind to wipe it off.

It hits her then. Overlord… does Overlord think Tarn chose not to wear a bra because of their deal?! The notion is so ridiculous that she has to bite back a laugh in favor of not antagonizing the other. 

Tarn’s attire has no room for a bra, simply put: A tightly-wound bulletproof vest tailored to her exact proportions with only a loose top underneath and a formal vest worn over it. The need to wear one never arose (save for the occasional formal gathering) and frankly, she finds them to be itchy and uncomfortable.

She settles on an exasperated huff. Let Overlord think that. Perhaps it would make for a more amiable evening than the dread low in Tarn’s stomach leads her to believe. “If you keep that between us,” she adds a sultry undertone to her voice, ever practiced in the art of subtle manipulation. Overlord’s gaze moves up to meet hers and Tarn senses the interest as much as it’s blatantly displayed on Overlord’s face with the way the other watches her. “I will let you think I did that for you.”

Overlord snorts. “Whatever, _princess_. Have a bed you can lay back on? Unless you prefer to be bent over on the nearest surface, of course~” 

Tarn realizes it's a challenge. The nickname alone is enough to twist her expression into one of fury and the implication that someone like _her_ can't have fun outside of a berth– 

“I don't care,” Tarn snaps. She does care as the idea of being bent over a table or counter or even being pushed on the floor sounds horribly uncomfortable, but Overlord isn't about to win this. She takes care to school her expression, though it is somewhat of a struggle. “Do whatever. As long as it is within these walls. I assume it will be over quickly regardless.”

Tarn’s lips twitch and she only narrowly avoids grinning when Overlord is briefly stunned into silence. The woman looks her over and appears to be contemplating something (if she is even capable of that, Tarn thinks with an unseen sneer) before taking a step back and gesturing to the couch. “Well, lay down then.”

Now it's Tarn’s turn to fall quiet. She affixes Overlord with a questioning glare and arched eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“What, need _instructions_ to lay down on a couch? Really, Tarn, have you ever done anything for _fun_ ?” Overlord taunts. She throws Tarn a sneer of her own. “Aside from trying to be Megatron’s _bitch_ , that is. Pretty sure you get off to any attention–”

Overlord has nothing more to say. Not by chance, but because Tarn bodily tackles her to the floor and lands on top of her, straddling her waist. Her eyes are ablaze with fury while Overlord’s only stare back at her with amusement. 

“Ow, that fuckin’ hurt, you know?” Overlord does not sound sincere. She's moving her hands to slide upward from Tarn’s hips and is, much to the assassin’s dismay, _enjoying the view_. The squeeze she gives Tarn’s sides is far from gentle, a quiet threat that Overlord holds enough power to crush her if she pleases. 

Tarn doesn't feel threatened. “What a shame,” she curls her upper lip, baring her teeth in a snarl. “If I knocked you unconscious, I wager I’d have a far more pleasant evening.”

“Kinky.” Overlord uses her grip on Tarn’s hips to yank her forward until her crotch is flush with Overlord’s face. Tarn _flails_ her arms to avoid losing balance and bends over, steadying her hands on the floor above Overlord’s head. She refuses to voice her surprise, clamping her jaw shut.

Overlord’s hands hook into the waistband of her pants and she _pulls_. The sturdy fabric is torn in two and carelessly thrown aside, leaving only the decorative belt wrapped around her waist. 

Tarn mourns the jeans with a venomous mutter. “If you haven’t the funds to compensate for that, I suppose you best prepare for a lifetime of _menial labor_.”

“Mmhm.” Overlord noses at Tarn’s clit through the fabric of her panties. She chuckles when Tarn tenses and her nails dig slight grooves into the wooden flooring. She audibly sucks in a gasp as she tries to keep a grip on her slipping composure. “I guess here's my way of making it up to you, Tarn. I'll let you sit on my face and won't use my teeth. Not _this_ time.”

“What makes you think there will be _another_ time?” Tarn’s patience dwindles. Overlord huffs an amused laugh and sees it fit to tear off Tarn’s underwear as well, tossing the ruined cloth somewhere in the room. 

Overlord blows on Tarn’s clit. Tarn’s fists clench tightly enough for her nails to draw blood from her palms, all in an effort to keep quiet. Overlord doesn't respond to Tarn’s question but continues to talk regardless. “Like this, you can even pretend I’m _Megatron_.”

Tarn hates to admit that it's a fantasy she’s had for a long while now, and even more mortified when Overlord so casually suggests she indulges in it.

“ _Fuck you_ , Overlord.”

Overlord’s cackle sounds against Tarn’s pussy and gives her no room to be annoyed by her partner’s cockiness, instead spurred on to allow Overlord’s hands to lower her further down.

“Planning to,” the woman hums, tongue delving into her _prize_.

  
  


Overlord uses her teeth after Tarn’s first orgasm and promptly sends the woman tumbling over the edge again with a scream. 

When Overlord realizes it turns her on more, Tarn’s own realization is this:

She's _screwed_. 

* * *

Tarn’s limp the following day is noticeable. Her mood is terrible enough that even blasting a large selection of classical music while working through a hefty stack of paperwork does nothing to improve on it.

She needs a break. Turning off the music and leaving the paperwork behind for now, Tarn joins her subordinates on their break.

They all stare at her. 

It's Nickel who starts the headache. “So, Overlord, huh?”

Tarn wishes the ground would swallow her up whole and be done with it. 

Even more than the DJD’s apparent knowledge is the fact that she has to grudgingly admit that it had very well been the best sex of her life.

Tarn blesses her mask for concealing her perturbed expression. She returns to her office, where she proceeds to lock herself inside for the remainder of the day. 


End file.
